"The trick is not to hesitate. It must be a firm cut, with one swing of the cleaver, so the bones don't shatter, but break cleanly at the joints. Otherwise they might not heal properly, and he could lose the use of that hand. Or worse, the rot might set in, and we would have to cut more to save his life."

Stannis shuddered listening to Cressen's recitation of everything that could go wrong. Could this actually kill him, if I don't do it right? I must prepare very carefully.

"I have used a weapon on a man before, Cressen."

"To kill, my lord. Hardly the same. And you did ask me the best way to do it in a way that would 'spare him any unnecessary hardship', as you put it."

Cressen's voice turned softer, "You don't have to do this yourself, you know. The men would understand."

"He wouldn't."

The maester seemed confused for a moment, before it dawned on him who the "he" was.

"The smuggler? It's hardly his place to dictate the method of his punishment. Perhaps ... he was hoping that you would lose your nerve, and he could escape with his fingers intact."

"Then he is sorely mistaken. I mean to go through with it, no matter what." Stannis snapped in irritation. Even our old maester? He doubts my resolve as well?

Cressen did not seem to notice his irritation. Or pretending not to notice, more likely, he thought. I know your ways too, old man. You do not have the monopoly on understanding.

"I do not doubt that you mean to go through with it, my lord. But this man does not know you."

He replied as if he knew what was in my mind.

"I have considered why he asked that my own hand be the one to deliver the punishment. Somehow I doubt it's because he wants to escape it. He does not seem to be that kind of man. When he came to our aid, Robert was injured and hiding from Aerys' men. He did not have to endanger himself to help the side that seemed to be losing at the time, but he did anyway." Stannis mused aloud.

"Then perhaps ... "

"Perhaps I should not punish him? Is everyone at Storm's End in agreement about that? Even you, Cressen?"

"You said it yourself, my lord. He endangered his own life smuggling the onions and salted fish that saved our lives."

"And he has been rewarded for that! A knighthood, a good piece of land. A crabber's son from Flea's Bottom, a man who spent most of his life breaking the law, rising to such heights. He is a hero and a smuggler. He has been rewarded for the heroism, should he not be punished for the crime as well? The good act is not diminished by the bad, so why should the bad act be excused because of the good?"

"A gentler punishment, perhaps. Not just for the smuggler's sake, but for the sake of the people here at Storm's End. Who have suffered so much for so long. A show of mercy from you ... Your brother is King now. You will be Lord of Storm's End. You will need their loyalty, and their love."

Love, he scoffed. They loved Robert their lord who was never here and made his home in the Eyrie, and hated me for being the one doling out the punishments and actually ruling in Robert's stead.

But perhaps it would be different when I am the rightful Lord of Storm's End, not ruling in place of someone else. He allowed himself a split second luxury of thinking this, before sanity and reality made themselves known once again. To be loved is not the point. Law and justice are not to be trifled with, not for the love of all the men and women in the known universe. Or even the love of the man who was our savior.

"The law is the law. It cannot be bended this way or that way for the sake of the chosen few. Where is the justice in that?"